Chapter Text
October 9, 2003
Dear Diary,
Finally, my dream has come true, and finally, I am able to write about it!
Last month, I was transferred to the body of my dreams; the body of a twenty-one-year-old woman, after spending over three and a half years in the body of a child. This the body I pined for, begged for, and now embrace every morning I wake up inside of it. Every time my hands run over my long, willowy, grown arms, I know that three and a half years of torment (though shared with my beloved) was worth it… but I am getting ahead of myself with this ooey-gooey sentimentality. My tears threaten to smudge the ink! Let me tell you instead what led up to getting this wonderful body.
I think it all started nearly six months ago, just after I turned twenty-one. The doctor woke up out of sorts, and the only explanation he gave me was that he’d had a strange dream. The thing is that he didn’t recover from that strange dream. Even into summer, when I’d try to cheer him up by playing on the beach with him and Largo, he would often go off into space, watching me, but in a trance. When he weren’t doing leisurely things, he would shut himself away, working on ‘a project’ that he refused to reveal to me until a month before my procedure.
Finally, one day, he pulled me into his office and I found the source of his sleepless nights and daydreaming days: countless sketches of a grown, beautiful woman, of me, with all the parts necessary to create such a body.
I must have kissed his face a million times, and showered it in a million more teardrops.
He asked me if this was what I wanted. I told him more than anything. A month later, after a heartfelt ‘see you later’ and kisses pressed to the small hands I’d never wear again, I went under the scalpel and woke up a woman. I was so happy that I thought I might die and die happily, finally getting to spend at least a few moments as what I’d always been, deep down.
“So…” I’d stirred awkwardly at the soup the doctor had served me, watching the vegetables spin through the broth. I was perfectly capable of eating now after an entire afternoon of practice; I was just stalling. “Why?” The question was vague, but Doc had opened his mouth to reply immediately, though his hands opened helplessly a moment later, as if the answer might fall from the sky and into his palms. In the silence, the question that had itched at me for months crawled its way out. “Was it… was it because of that dream you had?”
Doc looked at me again, alarmed. “I told you about it?”
I shrugged. “Not really. You just told me you had a strange dream, and you acted weird since then. What was it about, anyway?”
“You,” he sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “I saw you. Like this. Grown.”
“Really?” I leaned closer to him. “How did I look? Like this?”
“Yes. Beautiful,” he seemed to blurt, before looking away again, his neck reddening. “And so happy.”
Emotion swelled in my throat then, almost painful. “And… were you happy, Doc?”
“Pinoko…” His smile at me said ‘yes’, but his glimmering eyes, full of sorrow, full of regret, said something more. “I felt like a fool.” He reached over, taking my new, smooth hand in his own warm, rough one. “I felt like such a fool, and I vowed that I’d give you that body before you turned twenty-two, so my dream could come true alongside yours.”
“Ohh.” I grinned playfully. “You just wanted to recreate the hot babe from your dream; is that it?” Black Jack rolled his eyes, but he had to fight a smile off of his face.
“ No, Pinoko, but I can’t say it wasn’t to my benefit. Your happiness is my happiness.”
He said it so easily, almost casually, but the words yanked at my heartstrings. I boo-hooed over my soup, and then enjoyed it at Black Jack’s encouragement. It was very good soup. Already, I was itching to cook again, but Black Jack told me that those things would take time. Walking, for instance, was a conundrum in and of itself, and I’ll admit it took me almost the entire month from then until now to master these longer legs, and be able to navigate them without Doc’s help. He was ever-patient with me, though. I am truly grateful for that, and for him. Always for him.
I will write more tomorrow.
Yours Truly,
Pinoko